


Song

by Norimn



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Missions, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norimn/pseuds/Norimn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was that one time when Clint caught Natasha singing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing, so I opened my dictionary at a random page and pointed at a random word. That word turned out to be 'song', and then this short short ensued.

He took the elevator up to the common floor, trying to banish the debriefing from his mind. It had been the worst in ages—Fury hadn't done anything else than yell at them. And the worst part of it was, that Natasha hadn't been there. She had been sent on a solo mission a couple days earlier, and she should be back within a week. It was a simple assassination, nothing out of the ordinary. A routine job for the Black Widow.

When he reached the common floor, he headed right for the kitchen, glad that none of the others had decided to go there so that he could be alone with his thoughts. It really hadn't been necessary to yell that much at them. They weren't kids, for Christ's sake. Just because one civilian had almost been killed, they were “irresponsible,” they should pay more attention to “where they fucking crash land, _Stark_ ,” and they had to “act more like a team.” As if they weren't trying. Well, at least Cap was. It certainly didn't help the team spirit that they were two members short. Thor was in Asgard, _again_. Sometimes Clint wondered if he did it on purpose. And Natasha was on that darn mission.

He had just reached for one of the half-empty pizza boxes that Stark had a habit of leaving in the middle of the night when a faint sound caught his ear. It sounded melodic, and he froze in place in order to listen. Words. It was words. Not English, that much was for sure. Russian, his brain supplied. His mind put together the pieces for him and informed him that what he was hearing was song. Was Jarvis playing games with him? Couldn't be. Stark would never allow him to play music that calm. Confused, Clint looked around, trying to locate the sound. An open door across the room caught his attention, and he inched closer.

The door opened slightly as he pushed gently at it. He didn't get to open it very much, however, before he was slammed against it, an arm over his chest and a knife at his throat. His first impulse was to fight back, but he recognised the silhouette in front of him despite the deep darkness that had fallen over the tower as the night progressed. “Tasha,” he gasped, trying to pry away the knife. Upon eyeing him for a moment, she released him. She didn't step away, but remained inches from him, and he put his hands on her arms. Something wasn't as it ought to be—she wasn't usually this jumpy after a mission—but he didn't ask. He merely registered the clattering sound as the knife fell to the floor, returning the kiss she planted on his lips. It was needy and hungry and far from chaste as their kisses usually were, and it only made his suspicion stronger.

When they parted, she ran a hand through his hair, shaking her head. “It's good to be back,” she said, and he couldn't avoid hearing that her voice was shaking ever so subtly.

“It's good to have you back,” he said, hesitating for a moment before adding: “You don't usually sing.” Had there been enough light for him to see, he was sure that she would have sent him a poisonous glare. Thus, he was rather surprised when she actually answered.

“A Russian lullaby. This mission... it reminded me of before... everything. Before my training. I used to sing it at night,” she replied quietly. Missions never reminded her of anything. She got in, she got done, and then she got gone. That was how it worked. They were just _missions_. Instead of inquiring further, he put his arms around her. She leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder, and in that moment, everything was okay. Whatever she had experienced on that mission could remain unknown, at least till morning. It didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that she was there.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments etc are always appreciated. Cookies for everyone that got the John Mayer reference.


End file.
